


Hey

by merycula (thanksillpass)



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 07:29:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1156806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanksillpass/pseuds/merycula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You can't keep ignoring me forever, Wade!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Hey 嘿](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4688957) by [bukeaijun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukeaijun/pseuds/bukeaijun)
  * Translation into Русский available: [Эй](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6146209) by [Tiferet (taubenblautiferet)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taubenblautiferet/pseuds/Tiferet)



When Wade walked into his apartment, he felt Peter’s presence even before he turned on the lights and saw him there; sitting on the table, dangling his feet carelessly like a bored child, humming an unrecognizable tune. Wade sighed and pointedly avoided eye contact as he slid past Peter on his way to the sink to wash his hand.

“Finally!” whined Peter. “Do you have any idea how bored I was? Also I’m pretty sure something died in your bathroom. The stench is unbearable. What did you have for breakfast to leave something like that down there, dude? Seriously, can’t you smell it?”

When Wade didn’t respond in any way and casually wiped his hands before opening the fridge and taking out a beer.

“No, I don’t drink, but thanks for asking,” whispered Peter, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice. “Anyway… Hey. How was your day? Ate anything mention-worthy? Sexually harassed anyone with unusually good swing? Maybe you killed and/or died in a particularly imaginative way that you would want to brag about? Anything?”

Wade rubbed his temple and took out another can of beer before closing the fridge and heading to the bedroom.

“You can’t keep ignoring me forever, Wade!” he heard through the closed door.

Oh yes, he could. And he fully intended to.

* * *

Before Peter decided to “hang out,” for the lack of better expression, at his place, Wade hadn’t seen him for two weeks. They had their thing for a while, which was more than nice, with lots of orgasms and pizza, and it ended. Suddenly? Sure. In tears? You bet. But no harm done, shit like that happened every day to everyone. Especially to Wade.

So he went on with his life because he was more than used to those kinds of situations. He moved on like a pro and that was why he wouldn’t cave in. He wouldn’t talk back – he was better than this, stronger. No matter what Peter would say to him, day after day, Wade would just drink another beer in silence.

“Have you visited May lately? She probably misses you a lot. You were the only one who really loved her meatloaf. She really liked you, you know?”

“Did you know that Clint had a dog? Of course you knew, with how you two were sneaking behind all of our backs with your secret bromance. Why didn’t you tell me? I could have been teasing him about it for months!”

“I miss the way you used to look at me. You don’t look at me like that anymore. You don’t look at me at all. What do you want me to do? Leave? That’s what you want? I don’t believe you. I left you for two weeks, and look what happened to you. You’re a mess. More of a mess than usual even. When was the last time you had anything except beer in your stomach? Wade, look at me.  _Look at me dammit!_ ”

“Are you mad that I came back?”

* * *

Wade did eventually cave in after a week of… that. Of Peter’s constant presence, his unyielding determination during the day and silent sobs in the night.

“Hey,” muttered Peter without much expectations; it was just something he did every day, he greeted Wade when he came back home.

“Hey.”

Wade watched Peter’s face light up like a fucking Christmas tree and he grimaced. Truth be told, that wasn’t supposed to happen. He had no idea what made him talk back but he did and it was too late to go back. He would hate himself for that later.

Peter leapt off the table with that disgustingly happy grin on his face and reached out for Wade, only to stop his arm mid-air, as if realizing only now that he couldn’t do that, and clenched his fist before letting in fall against his side.

“Hey,” he repeated searching Wade’s face.

Wade sighed and shook his head, reaching for beer like he had been doing every day, but this time he turned around to see Peter bite his lip with worry. He wanted to ask if he wanted some, but that would be too weak and pathetic, even for him.

“Why are you here, Peter?” he asked instead.

Peter blinked in confusion. “What do you mean? You’re… you know.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “You’re the only one. The only one who- you know.”

“Am I now. Sucks to be you.”

* * *

He was lying on his back in his bed, arm thrown across his face as if it would make Peter curled up next to him disappear. He could feel his eyes on him, touching his body like his hands used to. Both of them released a tired hopeless sighs almost at the exact same moment, but they were way past giggling and calling jinx. Wade sighed again and turned to his side to face Peter. He was a bit surprised, if the soft gasp he let out was anything to go by, but he didn’t break the eye contact; he was looking at Wade with his mouth o-shaped and his chest heaving.

“I want you to leave,” said Wade.

“You want me to sleep on the couch again? But it’s so uncomfortable, come on!”

“No, I want you to leave my place. Me. I want you to leave me alone.”

Peter frowned in that adorkable way of his, and Wade’s chest started to hurt. “But why?”

“I’m crazy enough without you here. Just go.”

He turned to his other side and closed his eyes, praying that sleep would come, not faster, but at all.

* * *

“You’re still here.”

Peter was sitting on the kitchen counter, legs and arms crossed, pouting.  “I’m not going anywhere.”

Wade had been sighing entirely too much those days. But he was exhausted and he didn’t have any will to fight, the urge to sigh or anything else for that matter. Peter was right, he was a mess. But his presence certainly wasn’t helping. Wade willed himself to snort and he opened the fridge. It was quite unsurprisingly empty. He cursed under his breath and started checking the pouches for money.

Peter cleared his throat, clearly displeased with being ignored again. Wade looked at him reluctantly and smiled bitterly.

“Fine. So I’ll go. I’m too tired for this, Peter, I really am. I can’t have you here, it’s too painful. If it makes me a coward or scum or whatever, be it. But I can’t take it anymore. If you want to stay, I’ll leave.”

“I’ll follow you.”

“No, you won’t. New York is your city and we both know you won’t leave it, no matter how lonely you are.”

Peter gritted his teeth and gripped the counter with his hands, refusing to look at Wade. Wade wasn’t expecting to see tears in his eyes. Futile anger, maybe. Desperation perhaps. But what he saw, when Peter finally lifter his head and looked at Wade, was acceptance. Understanding. Permission. He smiled to himself and went out to the store.

* * *

Wade was packing with Peter hovering over him, rocking on the balls of his feet with his arms behind his back. None of them talked since morning, not even Peter who spent the previous night apologizing to Wade, believing he was asleep.

“I saw May today,” Wade suddenly blurted out.

“Yeah?” Peter sounded dejected and bitter but also, somehow, mildly amused. “How is she?”

“Old.”

Peter hummed as Wade was checking the drawers for anything he might have left behind. When he was sure he was ready to go, he looked at Peter.

“I told her I was leaving and she smacked me in the head. Not because she was mad I didn’t visit her even once since- She was angry for not telling her sooner. She wanted to pack me some food. She’s truly a golden girl, that one.”

Peter’s face was a painting of conflicted emotions, of pain and joy, of relief and hope. “Stop crying, you idiot,” he said around a choked-out laugh.

Wade nodded and wiped his face. “She left beautiful flowers on your grave.”


End file.
